In Nobody's Eyes but Mine
by celeste9
Summary: Becker and Connor have dinner with Becker's parents so they can make an important announcement. It isn't received well. Becker/Connor


_****_A/N: For the prompt, 'Becker/Connor - (angsty) Becker finally comes out to his parents/family. It doesn't go well.' Title from 'Andy, You're a Star' by The Killers.

_**In Nobody's Eyes but Mine**_

Connor sighed happily and burrowed under the duvet. He couldn't remember ever being this happy in his life. Memories bled through from the previous night, from the long walk and the nice dinner he'd had with Becker.

The nice dinner when Becker had proposed to him.

Connor still felt a little like he must have dreamed it, but he didn't think he would be able to so clearly recall the way Becker had looked at him if it had been a dream, or the adorably awkward way Becker had stumbled through his speech.

And he definitely wouldn't be this sore if it had only been a dream.

He rolled over and met Becker's eyes. He was about to tease Becker for sleeping in when he caught the expression on his face. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Becker reassured him, finding his hand and squeezing it. "I was just thinking."

"Yeah? About what?"

"My parents."

Connor stared. Becker didn't talk about his family often - Connor knew enough to know that they weren't close and that they didn't know Becker was gay. For a time during their relationship Connor had been hurt by it, by the fact that Becker didn't want to tell his parents about them, like Connor was his dirty secret. But he had come to realise that it had nothing to do with him at all.

"I have to tell them," Becker went on.

"What?" Connor was sure he sounded - and looked - like an idiot.

"We're getting _married,_ Connor."

Connor grinned stupidly. He couldn't help it.

Becker's expression twitched, fondness creeping in, and he kissed the tip of Connor's nose. "It's time they knew about me."

"Are you sure that's what you want?"

"I don't want to do it, not really, but I can't keep hiding. I need them to know you, Connor. I need them to know me."

"I'll come with you," Connor blurted out and then winced, not knowing if that's what Becker would want at all.

But Becker smiled finally, a glimmer of relief shining through. "Thank you."

So Connor smiled because Becker was smiling and he let himself hope that this would be a good thing.

* * *

"Stop twitching. You're making me nervous."

"I can't help it," Connor muttered and managed to keep still for maybe thirty seconds. He thought that was a pretty good effort, actually.

"Connor…"

"I'm sorry!" Connor reached across the seat to lay his hand on Becker's thigh. Ever since Becker had set up this dinner with his parents, Connor had been trying to be supportive. He was trying to keep his fears and worries to himself because he knew Becker had enough on his mind without Connor adding to it.

But that didn't mean Connor wasn't anxious. He rubbed his hand along Becker's thigh.

"Is that supposed to be reassuring?" Becker asked. "Because I'm not sure whether it's making me more uptight or whether I feel a bit like a dog."

Connor snatched his hand back. "Sorry," he said again, feeling useless and silly. "I just…"

"I thought I was the one who was supposed to be freaking out, seeing as I'm about to come out to my parents."

The words spilled out before Connor could stop them. "I hope they don't hate me."

Becker took one hand briefly off the wheel to squeeze Connor's knee. "You're wonderful, Conn. If they have a problem, it'll be with me."

Sometimes Connor couldn't believe he had found someone to love him like Becker did.

And sometimes he couldn't believe how thick Becker was. "They're your parents, aren't they? I'm sure it'll work out. They love you."

"Right," Becker said in a not altogether encouraging tone.

They passed the remainder of the drive in silence, Connor staring out the window and telling himself over and over that it would all work out. It had to.

For Becker's sake.

* * *

Becker's house was big and old, set far back from the road in a small grove of trees. It looked like something out of an old film, probably a horror film, the creaky yet eerily beautiful old house filled with ghosts. Connor thought that three of his childhood homes could have fitted inside it. His anxiety instantly ratcheted up because how could the people who lived in that house ever be impressed by him? How could he not be a humongous disappointment just by existing?

"It's kind of ridiculous, isn't it?" Becker asked. "I don't know why they insist on hanging onto it, just the two of them in that monstrosity. The upkeep is a bugger."

Connor smiled weakly and trailed in Becker's footsteps, gazing at the ground as he walked because that seemed safest.

They were met at the door by a woman Connor could only assume was Becker's mother. She was tall and elegant and Connor supposed she was rather pretty, though there was an air of distance about her and a slightly pinched look to her face. Her eyes looked like Becker's but with none of his good humour. If she smiled and looked less like she had smelled something a bit nasty, she would probably be beautiful.

"Hilary," she said.

Becker leaned in to dutifully kiss her on the cheek. "Hello, Mum. This is that friend I told you about, Connor Temple."

"How lovely to meet you," she said coolly, holding out her hand to Connor. "We so rarely meet any of Hilary's friends."

Connor shook her hand and then wondered anxiously if she had been expecting him to kiss it. She seemed the type to want that sort of thing. "I'm so happy to be here, Mrs Becker, thank you for having me." He winced inwardly and wished he'd asked Abby for advice on how to behave. He was also starting to feel incredibly self-conscious about his clothes. Abby had once, in a generous mood, described his dress sense as quirky - Mrs Becker did not appear to be the sort of woman who appreciated quirky.

Mrs Becker gave Connor an appraising gaze before leading them farther into the house. "Your father's in the lounge having a drink before dinner. Go and see him."

It was very much a command and not a suggestion. Connor shadowed Becker, thinking that it was starting to make sense why Becker didn't visit home often.

In the lounge, a tall man was standing with his back to them, gazing out of the bay window. He turned as they entered and Connor looked into a face that was almost jarringly familiar. Connor was pretty sure that now he knew what Becker would look like in thirty years or so, right down to the military bearing.

"Hilary."

"Dad."

They shook hands and then Mr Becker - Colonel Becker, Connor corrected himself - looked down his nose at Connor. "You must be the friend."

"Er, yeah, I'm Connor. Connor Temple." He valiantly held back his wince at Colonel Becker's bone-crushing handshake, discreetly wringing out his hand behind his back when it was released.

Colonel Becker turned away from him and moved to the drinks cabinet, taking out two glasses. "Join me for a drink," he said, pouring out something that was disturbingly red and adding soda water. He handed a glass to Becker and to Connor.

Connor took a sip because he knew better than to refuse. He nearly choked at the bitter taste but forced himself to take another sip. He couldn't imagine why anyone would drink this stuff by choice. Why couldn't they just have whisky like normal people? Not that Connor actually liked whisky, either, and he thought maybe people didn't drink that before dinner, but still. Maybe gin. Gin would be good. Gin and tonic. A lot of it.

Becker drank his without his expression changing, though his eyes were laughing at Connor.

"You haven't visited in quite some time," Colonel Becker said.

"Work keeps me busy," Becker replied.

"Too busy for your family?"

Becker shrugged. "You know what it's like."

Colonel Becker's mouth thinned but he didn't contest it.

Connor continued to make himself sip the drink while he clamped down on the urge to fill the silence. He didn't think Colonel Becker would find Connor's prattling as amusing as his son did.

Becker had no siblings. Connor was sorry about that - he thought a brother or a sister might have brought some brightness into what looked like had been a dour childhood. It made him sad, thinking of Becker ambling about this huge, gloomy house on his own. He supposed it was too much to hope for that Becker had had a dog, at least. He couldn't imagine Mrs Becker allowing a dog to dirty up her house.

Eventually Becker finished his drink and said, "I should see if Mum is ready for me to set the table. May I be excused?"

Colonel Becker waved him out and Connor took one last painful gulp of the drink to finish it, hoping there would be something better to rid his mouth of the taste with at dinner. He followed Becker into the kitchen.

Mrs Becker was in the middle of slicing a roast and Becker wordlessly picked up a stack of plates to take into the dining room, gesturing to Connor to take the silverware. The dining room table was a table for six and Connor wondered whether the Beckers had a lot of company over. He wondered if they were warmer to their friends than they were to their son.

They set the table together and went back to start bringing out the serving bowls. When they'd finished, Becker pushed Connor none too gently into the seat beside him, leaving the place across the table for his mother.

"Hils," Connor said softly, trying to sound reassuring and supportive.

Becker took a deep, relaxing breath and smiled a very tiny smile at Connor, but his shoulders tensed again as soon as his father came into the room.

Colonel Becker's eyes swept over the room and he took his seat at the head of the table. No one said anything until Mrs Becker came in to set the roast in the centre of the table and take her seat.

"That looks wonderful, Mum," Becker said.

"Thank you, Hilary," she said and they set to filling their plates.

After a few minutes, Mrs Becker struck up a conversation. "Tell us how you know our son, Mr Temple."

"Just Connor," Connor insisted. "Through work, actually. We work together."

"You don't look like a soldier," the Colonel said, dripping with disdain.

"I'm not a soldier," Connor said at the same time Becker started, "He's one of my charges. He's a scientist."

"What sort of scientist?"

Connor shifted in his seat. "Oh, well, that's…" How could he possibly explain it to Colonel Becker? What he did, the fact that his qualifications would hold up just about, well, nowhere? Connor knew that Becker's father was high-ranking, but he had no idea what, if anything, he knew about the ARC. What had Becker told him? Connor had no idea and he had never asked.

Connor had never asked Becker about a lot of things.

"Classified?"

"Er. Yeah."

Colonel Becker grunted and reapplied his attention to attacking his meat.

The table fell silent and Connor wracked his brain for something to say that wouldn't be completely idiotic. He was drawing a blank.

Eventually Mrs Becker said, "I've been thinking, Hilary, that it's high time you started seriously considering settling down. A young man like you needs a wife."

Connor was too scared to raise his eyes from his plate.

Becker cleared his throat. "Actually, that's sort of what I want to talk to you about."

"Do you remember the Edwards' girl, Daisy? She's grown up so lovely. She's back from a year in France and I think if you would-"

"I don't need you to set me up, Mum."

"Of course not. But if-"

"Stop! I already have someone." Becker had seized Connor's thigh underneath the table, squeezing it like a vice.

Connor was trying very hard not to squeak in pain. He grabbed Becker's wrist and stroked his skin soothingly until Becker gradually loosened his hold.

Mrs Becker's eyes had widened in surprise and curiosity. "What? You never said. Hilary, really, would it kill you to pick up the phone? Who is she?"

"Well, that's the thing. Connor… I'm seeing Connor."

Mrs Becker blinked as she looked from Becker to Connor and back to Becker. "I don't understand."

"Connor is my boyfriend. We've been seeing each other for over a year and we want to get married."

There was a loud snort from the head of the table and everyone turned to look at Colonel Becker. "There is no way on God's green earth that my boy is going to marry some pasty little twit like that."

Connor flushed and he grabbed Becker's arm again, as he appeared ready to leap across the table at his father.

"Don't talk about him like that!"

"Hilary, please. If this is some sort of delayed rebellious phase-"

"It isn't about you! Not everything is about you, Dad."

"But you aren't gay."

"I don't imagine I'd be marrying a man if I was straight."

Becker and his father glared at each other across the table, like two alpha males in a pissing contest. Connor wished he could run away before any actual damage occurred.

"You're being ridiculous," Mrs Becker cut in, waving her hand in an imperious gesture. "You had so many girlfriends when you were in school, of course you aren't _gay._"

"Yes, I fucking am! I never loved any of those girls! Christ, what is so difficult to grasp? I like to fuck men!"

Mrs Becker's face was like stone, like her features had been carved from marble. Lovely and cold and hard. "Don't be crude. I won't have that sort of disgusting talk at my table."

"And if I said I like to fuck girls, would that be all right? Would that fail to offend your delicate sensibilities?"

"Must you be so childish? Mind your language, we raised you better than that."

Becker took a few seconds to visibly reign in his temper. "I didn't have to tell you, you know. I thought perhaps you would _want _to be a bigger part of my life. I thought you would want to know the man I'm going to spend my life with."

Colonel Becker appeared to be clenching his teeth and Mrs Becker waited a few moments longer before responding. "It isn't quite fair the way you've sprung this on us. You can't expect us to simply take it in stride. What will our friends think?" she murmured to herself, nearly under her breath.

Connor's eyes flew immediately to Becker, who was gaping like he couldn't even begin to know what to do with that. Connor, wanting desperately to make this better but not having a clue how, said, "Maybe if you got to know me-"

Becker and his father both spoke at the same time.

"Connor, leave this to me."

"Be quiet, no one asked for your opinion."

Becker's chair jerked back like he was ready to spring to his feet. "Don't speak to him like that."

"I'll speak to him however I bloody please."

"No, you won't! You can say whatever you like to me, you always have done, but I will not sit here and let you insult my… my fiancé," Becker said, stressing the last word.

"Then don't sit here," Colonel Becker said with a level gaze at Becker. "Take your boy there and get out of my house until you come to your senses."

Becker's hand curled into a fist on the table and he held his father's stare for a long while before turning to his mother, who said nothing. Finally he pushed his chair back and stood, holding his hand for Connor to take. He was as still as a statue while Connor felt like he might shake out of his skin.

Connor chewed the inside of his lip and looked nowhere but at Becker's hand, which he took, and stood up.

Becker didn't say another word and simply led Connor out of the kitchen, straight through the house. He dropped Connor's hand when they reached the front door and pushed it open.

As they walked to the car, Connor had to hustle to match Becker's long, quick strides. While Becker scrambled to fit the key into the lock, Connor reached out his hand to press his fingers against Becker's back. "Hils-"

Becker's muscles tensed and he shrugged away. "Don't."

So Connor shuffled around to the other side of the car and silently got in. He had a feeling that the awkwardness was only just beginning.

* * *

Becker wouldn't talk to him.

In the days following their disastrous dinner, it was like Becker had retreated behind a wall. He didn't smile and he didn't laugh and he didn't talk to Connor unless he had to. He hadn't touched Connor since they'd left his parents' house and every time Connor reached out to him, Becker pulled away.

Connor didn't know what to do.

So he did what he always did when he was at a loss - he spoke to Abby.

"It was a nightmare, Abby. It was like a film, like every horrible coming out story all rolled into one except I couldn't change the channel."

"Poor Becker," Abby breathed.

"I feel awful but he won't let me help him. I must have done something wrong but I don't know what it was."

"I don't think it's you at all, Connor. Just… just put yourself in his place. He made the decision to tell his parents something true and real and important, and they rejected him."

Connor sighed. He'd been able to think of nothing else, honestly, but he supposed he had been making it too much about himself. "But what can I do? I hate seeing him so miserable."

Abby squeezed his hand. "I think you have to let him have his space. He'll come to you when he's ready."

He supposed she was right, but Connor knew Becker. It could be a very long time before Becker was willing to let Connor in.

* * *

Connor did his best to make himself available to Becker without seeming like he was trying to push. He frequently found himself staying quiet in the background and letting Becker do his thing, not talking but simply being there if Becker wanted him. He made an effort to pay attention to the little things, getting Becker coffee in the morning and making his tea in the afternoon so Becker didn't have to do it himself. Connor even tried to contain his messes at home, cleaning up more promptly after himself in the kitchen and pausing before he threw his dirty socks on the bedroom floor.

He was loading clothes into the washing machine one Saturday morning when Becker said, "I know what you're doing."

Connor paused with his hand upraised, one of Becker's dark shirts hovering in mid-air. "The laundry?"

"I know you're being extra nice to me because you think I'm miserable."

Connor dropped the shirt and turned around, leaning his back against the machine. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No, but you don't have to try so hard. I'm not… I'm not miserable."

"Could've fooled me."

"Conn-"

"Did I do something? Have I upset you?" Connor knew he should listen to Abby and not make it about himself, but he couldn't stop himself from asking. He needed to know if he was making it worse, he needed to know how to make this better.

Becker's denial was immediate, with what was almost a gasp in his voice, as if he was completely stunned by the suggestion. "No! Why would you think that?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you barely speak to me and you haven't touched me since we left your parents'."

"It's not you, Conn. I swear it's not you."

Connor wanted to believe that, he really did, but it was hard not to think he had at least something to do with Becker's behaviour considering recent events. "Okay. All I want is for you to know that I'm here, for whatever."

Becker's face was drawn and blank, revealing nothing but the tension he'd borne for so long now. "I appreciate that," he said eventually, starting forward like he meant to clap Connor on the shoulder or something, but then he simply retreated, leaving Connor alone with the laundry.

* * *

A few more days passed and nothing much changed. Becker was still distant and Connor still didn't know how to make things better. He was beginning to fear nothing would ever be right again.

And then, when Connor was mostly asleep, face buried in a pillow and clutching the duvet, Becker crawled into bed next to him, tucking his nose into the hair at the nape of Connor's neck.

"I'm sorry," Becker whispered.

It took a few moments for that to break through the sleepy fog of Connor's mind. "Sorry?" he said, half a request for clarification and half a repeat of Becker's statement.

"I'm sorry," Becker repeated, slightly louder but still muffled into Connor's neck.

Connor rolled over, dislodging Becker and blinking at him. "What for?"

"For being an arsehole."

"You weren't being an arsehole."

Becker snorted. "Yes, I was."

Connor relented. "Okay, maybe a little. But I don't think anyone would blame you. After… Well, after that."

Even in the dimness of the room Connor could see Becker's flinch and the way his jaw clenched, but he didn't leave or even pull away. In fact, he stretched his arm to curl over Connor's waist, rubbing his fingertips lightly in patterns on the duvet, just over Connor's spine. "I wish you hadn't had to see that."

"I wish you hadn't had to go through it."

"I suppose, when it comes down to it," Becker said, so quietly, "it's just another reason for them to be disappointed in me. Now I haven't only been shuffled off to be a sodding security guard, I'm gay as well."

"If they knew what you-"

"They don't, do they? And I can't tell them so it doesn't matter. I'm a disgrace, as far as my father is concerned."

"If he thinks that, then he's an idiot," Connor said, not knowing what he should say but wanting more than anything to wipe the misery out of Becker' eyes. "Actually, I met him, so I _know _he's an idiot. No offense."

"None taken," Becker said, the warmth in his voice saying more than any words could. "Sorry you hated them, sorry they were completely awful to you."

"You don't have to apologise for them."

"I hope you don't think… Just because my parents… I mean, I…" Becker kept starting and stopping, gnawing on his bottom lip. The movement of his fingers had become more jerky, almost harsh in the tenseness of it.

Connor liked to think he was rather good at deciphering Becker speak. "Again, no offense, but your parents are kind of… well, they're a couple of tossers, aren't they? I dunno how you managed to turn out all right."

Becker immediately relaxed, settling in closer to Connor. "My natural brilliance, I expect."

"Your natural arrogance, too?"

"That, too." Becker was almost smiling. Connor had nearly forgotten what that looked like. "So… just all right?"

Grinning, Connor tried his luck and pressed forward, resting one hand on Becker's cheek as he kissed him. Becker went with it, rolling them until Connor was getting pushed down into the mattress.

"I guess you're more than an all right kisser, if that helps," Connor allowed, beaming up into Becker's face.

"Very magnanimous of you to admit it," Becker said, pushing his hand through Connor's hair. He settled back on his heels, resting his hands on his thighs. "Hey. Hey, Conn."

"Yeah?"

"I, um… You know I don't care, right? I don't care what they think? I don't want you to… Oh, bugger." Becker gazed down into his lap, twisting his hands. "If I was being an areshole, it wasn't because of you. I'm never going to lose you, no matter what anyone says."

Connor laid there looking at Becker, thinking that that might have been a stronger declaration of devotion even than Becker proposing. He knew how hard it was for Becker to say what he felt when he would so much rather show it with what he did.

"I don't want you to have to hide or, or anything," Connor tried, not sure exactly what he wanted to say.

Becker raised his eyes immediately, focusing a fierce glare at Connor's face. "Don't even say it."

"I'm not, I'm not saying anything," Connor said, levering himself up onto his elbows. "I love you, you know I do. I want to be with you. It's just that I-"

"Fuck my parents." Becker surged forward again, pressing Connor down onto his back. "If they want to be a part of my life, then they're going to have to accept who I am and who I love, because I'm not going to spend my life without you."

Connor threaded his fingers into Becker's hair, thinking that this must be a bit like what winning the lottery felt like, this amazing rush of joy and excitement and gratitude. Maybe nothing was perfect, but he had Becker and Becker had him. "You're lucky, because you couldn't get rid of me if you tried."

_**End**_


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